Roommates!
by ThinkChimerical
Summary: Skulduggery's house has burned down. With nowhere to  stay, he turns to Ghastly Bespoke. But will Ghastly even open the door? And if he does which one of these two fine gentlemen will lose their sanity first? Find out here! Rated T, because it's not K.
1. Can I Stay?

***A/N* Welcome to: Roomates! As you could probably have guessed, this is about Skulduggery staying at Ghastly's place. Poor Ghastly. Will he survive? *Dramatic Music* Well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you? *Evil Laughter* BTW, an Ornithopter is an old-fashioned flying machine... Trouble always follows in Skulduggery's wake, doesn't it? Please read and review! Thanks-****ThinkChimerical**

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**Chapter 1: Can I Stay?**

It was a typical rainy day at Bespoke Tailors. Ghastly Bespoke was putting the last few stiches on a gray suit for one Mr. Myriad Dryad. He admired his work for a second and then yawned. It had been a long day.

Little did he know it was going to get a lot longer.

He was getting up to lock up shop, when suddenly there came a knock at the door. He crossed over to it and opened it. He probably shouldn't have. It would've prolonged his sanity a lot longer. The air was dark and quiet. All was blackness beyond the threshold. He stuck his scarred head out the door to take a look. Why would somebody ding-dong-ditch _him_? It _must _be a trap, he thought.

"Ghastly!" yelled a soft, velvety rich voice. " You weren't planning to attack _me _were you? You got this look on your face."

Skulduggery Pleasant stood, dripping wet outside, a suitcase in each hand. He obviously wanted to stay _somewhere_. And then it clicked in the tailor's mind.

Ghastly promptly turned around into his shop, and slammed the door. He really wanted to ignore the pounding and yelling of, "I'm dripping out here! Pity me!" He really did.

Unfortunately, his kind heart had other ideas.

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The last time Mr. Ghastly Bespoke had let one Mr. Skulduggery Pleasant stay at his house was in 1916.

What. A. Disaster.

26 explosions, half a destroyed shop, and a crashed ornithopter later, Ghastly had kicked Skulduggery out, and swore he would never let him stay there again. This time… well, he had to have grown up, hadn't he? Then again, the mage was over 400 years old… But he couldn't let the skeleton, shiver and moan, and catch pneumonia out there, could he?

He could.

But he opened the door anyways.

Poor, poor, Ghastly. May God have mercy on your soul.

* * *

Skulduggery had finished drying off, had taken off his hat, and had flopped onto the Tailor's sofa, when Ghastly came in, scowling at a phone. The Skeleton Detective cocked his head and nodded.

"Trying to get rid of me already?" he queried. Ghastly just snarled. He had just called all of thier freinds and a few of thier enemies, too, and not a one would let Skuluddugery stay at their house. That was understandable.

"Anton won't let you stay at the Midnight, because _apparently_, you nearly killed two of his guests, destroyed almost all of the Hotel, caused various mutilations and injuries to almost everyone present, and let several robbers ransack the hotel. _All in the same day_." Skulduggery nodded his head.

"Why yes, I do vaguely remember that." Ghastly sighed and continued.

"Erskine won't let you stay, because you caused a locomotive to run full speed at his house. How, I can't imagine, as the nearest railroad tracks are 26 miles from his home. You broke 32 of his glasses and plates, and flooded his bathroom, and burned down his kitchen. Again. _All in the same day._

" And the last time you stayed with me, you caused my shop to implode, and somehow crash an ornithopter into the roof. _All in approximately 6 hours._ Why can't you just stay in a regular hotel? No, wait. I wouldn't want to wish you on those poor mortals."

Skulduggery considered this for a moment.

" Well, anyways, since I'm here, can I make you breakfast? I might as well do something."

Ghastly just gaped at him.

"Were you even listening?"

"Would you care for some poached eggs? I've heard they're quite scrumptious, I assure you."

"Why are you even here?"

Skulduggery shrugged.

"My house burned down. Only these suitcases, my gun, and my Bentley survived. Anyways, is that a yes? If not I can make omlettes."

Ghastly the Tailor wanted to slap him. How _dare_ he come over and expect to be let in? Check that. Skulduggery hadn't forced the door open. Ghastly had opened it. Curses. Now he had nobobdy to blame but himself.

Why, oh, why had he opened the door?


	2. The Next Day: Burned

***Author's Notes* It's been... what? Yeah, I know. More than two months since I've updated. Sorry 'bout that. I've been saying I've been on hiatus. (We all know that's a blatant lie.) *Ahem* Chapter Two! Ok, to clarify, everybody acts definitely (with the exception of Fletcher) OOC. But that's OK! *Squints eyes shut, waiting to get pelted with rotten fruit* Anyways, as Ghastly says, desperate times call for desperate measures! And yes, Ghastly is wandering about in his pajamas in this sequence. That being said: *DISCLAIMER!* I do NOT own Skulduggery Pleasant. Or Ghastly. ( NO!) Or the series. Derek Landy does. Speed up on the sixth book, sir. We all wait in expectation. *Glares at Derek Landy with a determined expression* Thank for the reviews, by the way! So, enjoy, read, review, and umm... be mildly entertained! Thank you! -ThinkChimerical **

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**Chapter 2: The Next Day: Burned**

It was a peaceful morning. Ghastly opened his eyes, and yawned. What a strange nightmare he'd had. It involved Skuldugggery almost begging him to stay over at the shop. Of course Ghastly had refused.

Ghastly had almost made himself believe that, until the scent of burning tickled his nose.

The smell of burning eggs.

He had two immediate thoughts.

Thought number one: There is a gas leak somewhere in his shop.

He pauses to think it over. Possible, but unlikely.

Thought number two: A well-dressed skeleton has invaded his house, somehow managed to work his stove, even though he has never tasted food in over 300 years, and is making him eggs, as promised the night before.

Ghastly rips the covers off his bed and races to the kitchen.

What he finds there horrifies him.

The smell of burned eggs is omnipotent in the compressed space. Smoke curls in every which way, making the tailor gag.

A skeleton, oblivious to the chaos he's caused, flipping pieces of charcoal, which Ghastly assumes used to be eggs, in a pan. Everything in the kitchen is a mess. All but the skeleton, who is impeccably dressed, in a crisp white shirt,dark gray suit, and a dark blue tie (courtesy of Mr. Bespoke) with not a spot on him.

"Good morning Ghastly! I made breakfast!" chirps the Skeleton cheerfully. Ghastly growls. His fury cannot be expressed in mere words. And so…

He lunges at the skeleton.

"You're dead man!" he yells. Skulduggery dodges his obvious moves, made clumsy by anger.

"Too late! And that was rather…ineloquent. Honestly Ghastly? Is it too early for you? "

Ghastly pauses.

" Yes. We will banter later, when I'm in the proper mood. Clean this up." He says, gesturing to dirty kitchen.

"But I made this just for yoou!" Says Skulduggery, shoving the smoking pan with the blackened eggs in it under Ghastly's face. The tailor recoils, disgust obvious on his face.

"Force it on someone else." Mutters Ghastly, as he storms outside, still in his pajamas. He's barely outside, when he runs into an oddly dressed boy, with extremely ridiculous hair, gelled, and curiously styled.

"Fletcher." Mutters Ghastly. That boy... has all the power of annoyance of child. A hyped up child, desperate for attention. "Just great. Perfect, actually." Fletcher grins, (what he assumes to be) a winning grin.

"Ghastly. Nice pajamas. Can I come in?" It's _may_ I, annoying child! The Tailor refrains from pointing this out, because a strange little evil idea begins to sprout in his mind. A delicious, nefarious, perfectly satanic idea.

"Yes Fletcher! In fact, step right in!" He says, forcing his face in to a cheerful grin. "Wipe your feet you little-" he mutters as Fletcher steps through the threshold, giving the tailor an odd look. He slams the door behind him, causing Ghastly to cringe. If you break a door, it was hard to find a replacement these days. But, that aside, he draws an old -shioned skeleton key (Haha! Taste the irony _now_, Pleasant!) and locks the shop portal. Willing himself not to bust out in maniacal laughter, he magically locks it, and produces fire in the palm of his hand. Normally, the tailor doesn't like using magic, but desperate times call for desperate measures! He thought brightly.

He hesitates, thinking of his poor little shop.

And then he thinks of the damage Skulduggery Pleasant will inflict on it over the next few weeks.

"I'm saving you from a lot more pain, you know," he said, muttering to his shop, as though it could respond. The shop settles, as though resigned to its fate.

He presses his palm on the lintel of the doorways, a strange pleasure filling his being as he watches it burn.

"That ought to keep them busy for…" He pauses, calculating how long it will take for the skeleton to realize that the shop is burning. "Fifteen minutes, at least."

Ghastly sighs, and strolls off down the street, acting like a perfectly natural self-arsonist in his pajamas, and plots how he can get rid of his skeletal companion.


End file.
